


Our Lady's Tears

by Katsura Tsuruya (Katsura_Tsuruya)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Beaches, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eat Well Sleep Well Shit Well, F/F, First Aid, First Dates, Haircuts, Medical, Sparring, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-23 23:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsura_Tsuruya/pseuds/Katsura%20Tsuruya
Summary: Mikan Tsumiki, desperately needing to be needed, asks Peko Pekoyama on a date.Peko Pekoyama, not quite sure how to build a life for herself outside of her value to others, accepts.They stumble forward together, in the deep shadow of their mistakes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Our Lady's Tears, also known as lily-of-the-valley, signifies the return of happiness.

“Jabbacrabs are r-r-really dangerous... we don't need the meat that much. I'm not sure Ryota even likes it, outside of the h-hot pot... you don't need to keep doing this,” Mikan half-mumbled, fussing with some gauze. As she unwound it from the roll, though, it struck her that almost no one _except_ Peko got hurt in ways they couldn't fix themselves, anymore; since Nekomaru's heart transplant, he'd had enough energy to fix himself and Akane up from 'training,' and – though no one but herself and Hajime knew it – Nagito had been in remission since the surgery to remove Junko's hand.

The thought of having nothing left to do sent a terror-shiver up the nurse's spine, and she almost immediately recanted. “N-not that I'm telling, you, what – what to do! I like hot pot! Um! You don't – have to stop, going and, catching, crabs!” Putting both of her hands up, she waved them frantically in front of herself, dropping the gauze; with a whimper, she went to get a fresh roll.

“... It's fine,” Peko replied, shaking her head. “The Jabbacrab... is a danger to other, fluffier denizens of the islands.” With a small glance to one side, she added, “And... I prefer to keep our food requests to the Future Foundation smaller.”

That really was the elephant in the room, Mikan reflected, as she wrapped up Peko's cuts with the new roll. More self-sufficiency on Jabberwock meant less guilt, less shame... at least, for everyone else. Mikan traced a line over her stomach, shaking her head as she put away the new roll. Picking up the old one, she unwrapped a complete layer, then cut it away, leaving the rest sterile enough for use, and putting _that_ away too.

“You said there were no wounds on my back, so... is that everything?” Peko asked, looking to Mikan. Mikan shivered again – though this time at the feeling of trust _(control)_ in that moment. Holding the fate of someone so strong in her hands... that feeling was better than anything.

Mikan took a deep breath, letting that feeling embolden her a little. Ever since she'd heard about Peko's confession to Fuyuhiko – a confession that had seen Fuyuhiko admit that he thought of Peko like family, and indeed would have been uncomfortable with dating her, or so Mikan had heard – she'd been thinking about this. She hadn't wanted to move so soon that she became an easy-to-abandon rebound, but it had been three months by now...

“Th – actually, there was! There was one more thing,” she breathed. Finally – the courage to initiate found her, if only for a moment. “... Can you – I want you to come with me! To the b-beach! We could watch the waves!” She just threw it all out there at once – and, for good measure, chucked an, “I'm sorry! You – that was too much! I don't – if you don't w-want to, then –” after it.

Peko blinked once. Twice. The expression behind her glasses was blank (almost deliciously so, Mikan thought). “... Why?” Peko asked, after a few moments.

“P-please don't hate me!” came a pleading reply. “I shouldn't have – I should have known you weren't –“ This was a mistake and Mikan had known it the instant it escaped her mouth. She should never have asked, never have done something for herself, never –

“... Wait – are you asking me on a date...?” Dawn broke through the clouds behind Peko's eyes, and she glanced down and to one side – before looking _Mikan_ in the eyes closely indeed. A tense moment passed – one in which Mikan somehow held it together long enough not to break down. After that moment, Peko nodded slowly. “... I'm willing,” she agreed, “to try. Young M –“ Catching herself, she tried again. “Fuyuhiko said that it would be better if I were to try opening my heart a little to others, instead of looking to him to be everything to me. I'd... like to go to the beach, with you. What time should I arrive? Is there anything I should do?”

Mikan half-clapped her hands in front of herself, feeling her heart swell. She caught the hint of inexperience in that voice, though, and... “Oh! Well... umm... that's – ehe, hmmm...” … Could she be a little bolder, perhaps? “... T-tonight, at sunset... and... I want you to do your hair up like you used to! Loose, with the side-tail... i-if you want... and – I want you to bring your sword! Th-the bamboo one!”

Yet again, Peko's reflexive answer was to blink, though this time Mikan noticed a subtle straightening of the swordswoman's back and something in her eyes she couldn't quite place. However, with a small nod, she agreed, “Is that the sort of look you prefer...? Very well.”

Something about Peko's expression lingered with Mikan, even though she couldn't place it; it gave her cold feet about asking for more, for the moment. Instead, she asked, “I-is there anything you'd like from m-m-me...?”

Bringing a finger to her chin, Peko glanced up in thought. She started to shake her head, but caught herself, instead saying, “I'll think about it, but I can't think of anything.” Mikan looked into her eyes again, and could see that earlier feeling sharpen – and in turn recognized it for what it was: distress. Faint, suppressed – practiced suppression, no less.

… It made her flinch. “A-a-are you sure...? You can ask me for anything! I don't – I really don't mind! Even if you want to test your sword on me, or put a cigarette out in my eye, or m-m-make me cut off my p-p-p–“

Peko stopped her. “I don't want to do any of those things,” she answered, with sudden firmness. “I meant what I said. I can't think of anything I'd want to request of you. I _certainly_ don't want to hurt you.” There was a sadness in her eyes as she added, “... and if finger-shortening were sufficient atonement for the things we must take responsibility for, Fuyuhiko would no doubt have a hand like Nagito's already.”

Mikan and Peko shared a strained laugh. Mikan knew – and, for that matter, knew that Peko knew – that it wasn't a joke... but treating it like it was took the sting out of it, somehow. The moment started to get to Mikan, though, after a second; she took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to get something like stable. How could she appease someone who didn't seem like she _wanted anything at all?_

… an idea popped to mind. Small, half-formed – not even really an idea, just the ghost of an idea – but it struck her, abruptly. “Y-you should... think of something to ask me to do for you. Something... o-only I can do... with my talent. … okay?”

Peko was silent for what felt, to Mikan, like an eternity. Only when Mikan was about to start apologizing did Peko finally say, “Very well. I'll think of something by the end of our – date.”

In spite of herself, Mikan smiled. “G-great! Then... I'll see you tonight. I have to get some things c-cleaned up here, so...”

“Of course. … Thank you,” Peko replied, before starting to slip away. Mikan watched every step of her retreat.

 

 

The date started innocently enough; the two of them met, finding a nice place to watch the hazy purple Jabberwock sky descend into night... and then promptly found themselves singularly unable to say anything to each other. Neither _quite_ knew how to initiate a date, if the growing silence was any indication. Mikan felt like it'd be easier if the waves just swallowed her.

Peko broke the silence at last, to Mikan's tremendous relief. “Mikan... there's something I've wanted to ask you for a while,” the silver-haired swordswoman murmured, as the two of them looked out toward the ocean. “Why haven't you asked Hajime to cut your hair instead of trimming it yourself? We had other things to do when we awoke from the Neo World Program, but it's been months, now. You've trimmed it a little, but you've kept it mostly the same, and still uneven...”

Mikan kept her eyes out on the ocean. It was the first time she'd been asked the question, and she had no idea what to make of it. “I l-like my hair this way! It helps me r-r-remember... ummm... people had a lot of f-fun cutting it w-without my...” It sounded like nonsense even to her ears.

“I see. Is that the same way you 'like' Teruteru relating every positive emotion he has to his penis?”

Mikan flinched, and Peko immediately regretted the pointedness of her question; instead, she asked, “What would you want it to be like? If you could have any hairstyle, what would it be?” She saw Mikan flinch again, and added with a little more gentleness, “You don't have to answer, but I understand... that honesty, even about small things, is important in a –“

“... Swept bangs,” Mikan answered, with a little more decisiveness. “It's w-what I tried to do after someone took a chunk out of my bangs with s-s-scissors, but it just looks blocky... I like the l-length... but I wish it were a little fluffier...”

A long moment of silence passed between them, before one of Peko's hands came to rest on one of Mikan's. “I happen to have a comb and brush with me, since you asked me to change my hairstyle before coming. Are there scissors in your medical bag?”

“Y-yes...”

“Are you willing to trust me?”

Unlike the previous question, that one took Mikan a few moments to answer. “...Y-yes,” she eventually affirmed, reaching into the bag, retrieving a pair of scissors, and slowly offering them to Peko. The swordswoman took them, immediately beginning to smooth out and disentangle Mikan's long, dark hair with her other hand.

“... Mmm. Split ends, and a lot of them... this will be a battle. Are you willing to sacrifice some length for healthier hair?”

“Yes,” Mikan agreed – this time without stammering. Something about having someone attend to _her_ needs, without her even having to ask... it made her feel good. Not just good – fantastic. Maybe for the first time in her life. “I like having it past my neck, but...”

Peko began the process of trimming Mikan's hair, letting it fall to the sand. Mikan flinched at the first cut, but kept the flinch mostly in her legs so as not to disrupt the swordswoman as she cut.

“Fluffiness will require a long-term investment in care,” Peko continued, “but this will be a good platform to start that care. Close your eyes – I'm going to do your bangs.”

“W-wh-where did you learn to cut hair?” Mikan asked, letting her eyes flutter shut.

“... I taught myself,” Peko answered, her comfort with the blades obvious. “As a tool, my aesthetics were not much of a concern... but my hair began to get in the way on missions. I was uncomfortable asking for such things...” Her voice grew distant as she admitted, “It felt too much like an acknowledgment of my humanity. I learned to handle such things myself.”

Mikan drew her arms in toward herself, quiet for a long time. “That's... really k-k-kind of sad,” she murmured, eventually. Peko didn't respond, focusing in on her work.

“Do you have a mirror with you?” she asked, eventually; wordlessly, Mikan fumbled in her bag. She had a dental-style mirror – small, but it would have to do. Holding it out away from herself, Mikan took the time to assess Peko's work.

Her bangs had become a little fluffier just from the attention – rounder and swept, though without the full bounciness of Peko's own. Her own mediocre work had been used as a guide, but Mikan recognized almost none of her own hand in it. Her hair _was_ a fair bit shorter, now, too, only going a little past her neck... but she could recognize it as healthier-looking immediately, less choppy, less irregular.

With no immediately obvious way to vent the feeling swelling up inside her, Mikan started crying. Peko startled slightly, dropping the nurse's scissors on the sand. “I – I can try again, what's wr –“ she started, but she didn't get the word out before Mikan wrapped her arms around her, clinging tightly.

“I l-l-love it,” Mikan forced out, between sobs. She pulled Peko close, holding her tight – maybe _too_ tight – as she wrapped a finger in Peko's own silver-white hair. “N-no one's ever... ever... aaaa...” She started to shift her clinging to a more intimate posture – chest pressed to Peko's side, starting to lift a leg to wrap it around Peko's – but stopped herself. She didn't need to do that now, did she?

Peko didn't move; after a few moments, she much more tentatively, gingerly embraced the nurse. “... I'm glad,” she answered, a genuine smile starting to creep across her face. “This is the first time I've ever thought of myself as – having useful skills, other than...” She trailed off, but even the abruptly heavy subject matter couldn't quite break her of the warm feeling she had.

They sat, quietly, for a long time; Mikan eventually righted herself, leaning against Peko's shoulder. The quiet wasn't quite the empty, dreadful quiet that had lingered before Peko asked her question – simply a moment of relative peace.

Yet again, though, it was Peko who broke it. “... I thought of something to ask you for,” Peko said, softly. Mikan turned to face her, eyes widening slightly – but the answer proved almost anticlimactic. “... As – you know, from our time in the simulated Jabberwock,” she began, haltingly, gingerly, “I prefer not to bother anyone with the matter, but I have... issues, with – the bathroom. … during my cycle.” The wince on her face betrayed her mortification, despite being the one who brought it up in the first place.

Mikan, though, practically started beaming at the unfinished request. “Oh! That's r-really easy, actually! Ibuprofen and... hmmm... you eat a pretty protein-heavy diet... if you add some starches and some more fiber around that time, you might feel better, too! D-do you want me to start keeping a food diary for you...? O-or I can cook for you! And –”

“... I'll keep one myself, but we'll review it monthly,” Peko agreed. Mikan's heart fluttered – to be trusted, to be needed...! “Thank you. I'm surprised you knew so quickly...”

“It's actually a really common p-problem... there's other things we can do if that d-doesn't, um, if you need something else, but, that stuff is easy to start with...” Mikan's brow furrowed. “... I guess that'd be the sort of thing that would happen if you m-mostly talk to y-yakuza types... they wouldn't know...”

Peko blinked owlishly, her head canting to one side. “I'd never considered it from that perspective, actually. I simply assumed it was normal. … But that, too, no doubt stems from knowing so few other women until high school, I suppose.” Slowly returning to a more neutral position, Peko affirmed one last time, “I really do appreciate it. I thought it was something I had to live with... I wasn't even sure you'd be able to help.”

Mikan let out a small giggle; seeing Peko startle at it snapped her out of it quickly, though. “Th-that's kind of sad, too... but is it wrong to be happy I could...?”

Letting out a long, slow breath, Peko offered the nurse what she desperately wanted: reassurance. “To have your talent provide you a path to happiness in serving others... I don't think that's wrong at all.”

Mikan nodded, and snuggled up against Peko a little tighter. They continued to talk – talk about the weather on Jabberwock, about proper blade care, about a hundred other things; Mikan never once stopped clinging to Peko's side, until they returned to their cabins and parted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will not actually make you read about Peko's diet on-camera. It was just the most canon thing I could think to have her ask Mikan for help with. >.>


	2. Chapter 2

The date had been nice – much nicer than Peko had expected, actually.

If pressed, she'd admit that she hadn't gone into it expecting much, simply that it was hard to refuse a request from one of her friends. Something about it just felt good, though; in just an hour or two, she'd not only found a path to addressing a problem she'd thought intractable, but managed to make herself feel useful again, too.

Usefulness... since Fuyuhiko had insisted on her trying to see herself as something other than a tool, that feeling had been hard to come by indeed. It wasn't that she entirely couldn't set her own ends, but that she didn't want to, that the idea of choosing something for herself that wasn't aimed at making herself better at serving someone _else_ always came with a split-second horror-shiver.

… for that matter, her date had eaten into the time she'd normally set aside for training. She'd have to do something more intensive today, she realized, as she showered.

 

Only one denizen of Jabberwock could push her to her physical limits, of course. No amount of chasing crabs could beat an hour spent training with Nekomaru Nidai. The manager had squared up before her, taking on his usual fighting stance.

“Feels great to finally get back into the swing of this!” Nekomaru bellowed, a big grin on his face. “Hajime only gave me the green light to go all-out on this heart last week... I was about to lose it. But don't worry – I'm gonna give you everything I got!”

A smile crept across Peko's face. That, too, had been something she'd had to learn – but that, at least, came easier than it did in high school. A smaller world made it that much easier to let the little victories within it into her heart.

Training sword in hand – a bokken, today, rather than the shinai Mikan had requested, Peko slipped into her own stance. “I've been excited to see this,” she admits. “The way you used to move in combat... it's not that you weren't threatening, but your movements often put strain on your muscles and bones to protect your heart. I would very much like to see the way you move unhindered by such things.”

“You noticed, huh...” Nekomaru blinked once, though his stance didn't falter. “Then you know I'm not gonna be like any Nekomaru Nidai you've ever fought before! Come at me!”

Peko didn't hesitate. Breaking out into a sprint, she leapt at Nekomaru. To an onlooker, it'd seem as though she planned to come in for an overhead slash with all her might... and hopefully, it'd seem that way to Nekomaru, too. Landing short, she brought herself into a controlled slide _through his legs,_ seizing a momentary advantage.

Nekomaru whirled to face her with greater speed than she'd seen from him before, though. Bringing the full strength of his body to bear, he clapped her sword between both hands, only now thinking to ask: “You wearin' your hair loose again? Thought you were gonna'... stick with... the braids!”

The two of them stayed locked in that blade grasp – until Peko delivered a swift kick to Nekomaru's midsection, breaking the hold and gaining herself a moment of separation. “... Mikan asked,” she admitted, feeling almost shy about it. “We went on a date last night... to watch the sunset at the beach.”

Nekomaru advanced on Peko now, even as he continued to keep the conversation up. “Haha, congratulations! To tell you the truth...” Nekomaru came at Peko with a devastating-looking gut punch; as Peko shifted to the side and gave him a strike across the forearm for his trouble, he finished, “... we were kinda worried how you'd take it when Fuyuhiko said no!”

Peko took a moment, as Nekomaru shook the pain out of his arm, to take stock of the situation. Nekomaru was unquestionably faster, and _much_ more powerful, besides; where before he'd relied on the sheer power of fewer muscles to deal damage, now he could commit every muscle to every strike... _and_ he still retained the visual acuity he'd worked so hard to achieve.

“It was disappointing, but... I find my feelings haven't really diminished,” Peko conceded, as she circled Nekomaru, waiting for an opening. As she backpedaled, waiting for Nekomaru to initiate another strike, she added, “I find myself wondering if –“ Nekomaru came at her with a sliding kick, which she bounded over before finishing, “– my feelings were truly romantic, or just the sensation that the loyalty of a woman to a man must necessarily be so...”

“I see... so you, too, hold on to the unsolvable puzzle of love!” Nekomaru laughed – an almost deafening sound, at this range. Peko took the opening, coming in with a much more direct slash, straight across the torso, hoping to get Nekomaru to outthink himself.

Again, Nekomaru's palms met either side of Peko's bokken. “Sometimes you just gotta – go with it!” he half-grunted, as he put his full body into a spin, hurling the sword to the side – and Peko with it.

Peko's side hit the sand, and as she struggled to find her footing again, Nekomaru finished, “You'll figure it out! You've got a mind like a steel trap!” He moved toward her with speed verging on teleportation, coming in for the finish –

– and Peko, at the last second, flipped her bokken up and pointed it for his throat. He stood above her, motionless, one arm raised as if to deliver a finishing strike on a downed opponent.

“You're too eager with your newfound speed,” Peko noted, coolly. “You have the potential as an athlete in your own right, instead of one always destined to be surpassed, now... but your enthusiasm to use your new heart makes you forget to use the visual and mental acuity you developed to make up for it.” As soon as she finished her piece, Peko noticed just how worn-out she was, and started to gasp for breath.

“Haha! You got me – looks like this new body's got a ways to go!” Nekomaru answered her, with another mighty laugh. “Or maybe my mind's just gotta catch up with it... Either way – excellent stuff. … I think both of us'll become better fighters if we keep trainin' together, especially now. With the speed and mental acuity we've got, we're both defensive types... trying to get one over on each other means we'll have to figure out offense.”

“It's as you say,” Peko agreed, with a small glance off to one side.

Nekomaru sat down next to the half-fallen Peko, continuing, “Seriously, though – you and Mikan... it's a good idea. Even if it doesn't work out between you... it's like training. Even if you lose, you still learn something.”

“I'm... surprised, sometimes, that you don't bring this contemplative side of yours out in group settings,” Peko replied, after a moment's thought. “I think Ryota and Mikan would appreciate it more than the shouting.”

“No... it's better to bring bigger energy in a group!” Nekomaru answered, though it took him a moment to put together the words. “Gettin' serious one-on-one is part of being a manager. As a team, you have to stay hype... one-on-one is where you can work on yourselves.”

Peko nodded to that, trying to find something to offer. Eventually, she settled for, “... Again, then?” as she pulled herself back to her feet.

 

The hour proved exhausting, but extremely productive; Peko had come out slightly ahead, but both of them had been forced to develop more complex offense. The swordswoman flopped onto her bed unceremoniously, the exertion finally catching up with her.

A knock came at her door. “It's unlocked,” she called, not getting up just yet; she'd taken a clubbing blow to her thigh in the last bout, and while she could walk on it just fine, getting into and out of a standing position in the first place was taxing.

“A-are you okay?” came a halting, nervous voice from the threshold, within moments of the door opening. “I – I can, um, come back, if...”

“... Mikan?” Peko forced herself to sit up, sore though she was. “I'm fine – I just had a long training session with Nekomaru... please, come in.”

The nurse stepped in, glancing to Peko's thigh. “That doesn't look f-fine... but I understand,” she agreed, moving to sit on Peko's bed next to her. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“Nekomaru ended the training session with a massage... it doesn't hurt much, and it should heal quickly,” Peko answered. “I'm just worn out. … It's good to see you, though.” That much, at least, was true; it did feel good to have someone come to check in on her.

Peko noticed Mikan's hand wrapping gently around her own, as the nurse noted, “You should still rest it...” Haltingly, she added, “In fact, I... w-won't let you leave the room until you do...”

… that compelled Peko more than she might have wanted to admit. Being 'let' or 'not let' do something... even if it wasn't something she planned to do anyway...

“... All right,” she agreed. “I think I'm going to lie down, though... I'm sorry that I'm unlikely to be good company after training.” The swordswoman shifted her position slowly, carefully, snuggling into bed, pulling the sheets over herself.

Mikan curled up next to her, taking that hand again. “Ehehe... that's okay. I'm used to being around people too hurt to even s-speak, sometimes... you don't have to apologize!” She scooted closer to Peko underneath the sheets, holding her hand tightly. “I'll just make sure you don't have any r-reason to get up...”

Peko let herself settle in for a short nap to recuperate, a faint smile crossing her face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect to see a lot of the rest of the island squad! I have a lot of ideas for interactions between these two and everyone else that are informed by Mikan and Peko's relationship, ehehe.


End file.
